


Sweet irony

by Taniushka12



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Fantasizing, Infatuation, Light Choking, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Or Is It?, Pre-Canon, Season/Series 04, Sexual Tension, Thought Projection, au where martin has worse taste in men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taniushka12/pseuds/Taniushka12
Summary: One time Elias visited Martin on the library and one time Martin visited Elias in jail. A story about ill advised infatuations, fantasies that should be kept secret, and irony.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	Sweet irony

**Author's Note:**

> yknow how in [my last martinelias fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969761) I mentioned that Martin kinda fancied Elias a bit pre archives? yeah well this is kinda abt that, like two years before canon

It had been funny at first, quite flattering really, sensing Martin's thoughts whenever he visited the library. Behind his polite smiles the younger man was a nervous wreck, with the lie he so boldly told him despite the teenage fat still present on his cheeks back when he first applied many years ago, and Elias knew that despite the underlined suspicion everytime he stepped down there Martin, for some unthinkable reason, _liked_ him.

Quite more, sometimes, if the flashing images of him kissing him and the subtle flush in Martin's cheek were anything to go by.

So Elias played that game for a while while Gertrude was out chasing rituals to demolish, small distractions and the like. Elias would go down to the library when he saw that Martin was alone -and really, he was a rather lonely man wasn't he? Better keep Peter far from him- to borrow books, completely engrossed with his work of course while secondhandedly talking to him about whatever. It was fun to see the progression of the man's mental process as the days went by. It was a good thing Martin thought so loudly.

The mere vaguely defined shape of Elias taking the nape of his neck to bring him down to kiss him. The vague fluttering feeling of lips (his own) on his throat. Phantom touches on his skin, Elias could see it all in first, second and third person, all the while staring up at his face with a professional smile while Martin licked his lips and took a deep and shudery breath. Desperately wishing for his thoughts, his secret desires, to stay hidden.

He was even _cute_ , honestly.

Too young for him, though, too green, but he sure was cute.

It was interesting the change with time, maybe Martin growing bolder, maybe Elias himself wanting to see More whenever he was stuck on his office knowing Martin was down there thinking of him. Legs being moved, hair getting pulled, the longing for Someone dripping down of every pore of his skin as Martin pressed his hand on his face, gaze lost on the wall as he pondered how exactly would his hand feel inside of him. That made him laugh, the stealthy eyes on the library's bookcases catching the reddening of his cheeks, sweet peaches that he'd almost like to bite into, just to see what would he do.

And what he did, of course, would be nothing.

One time Elias went down to the library as he rutinately did (habit that he picked accidentally, but oh well), nodding with his head in Martin's direction as he felt him straighten up. It felt... lukewarm. It wasn't a serious crush, he wasn't That pathetic he wanted to think, but it was definitely akin an infatuation. Craving affirmation that he almost wanted to give only to see him melt like caramel. Smile surely as sweet as such.

—Elias, sir, what a, what a nice surprise.

—Martin. —He licked his lip, image of the metaphorical caramel still present on his mind while he didn't miss the way Martin's eyes followed the movement for a second—. Good evening. The book I asked you for earlier, were you able to...?

—I did! Quite... esoteric, this one. —He laughed lightly while fumbling with the books he had at hand, mumbling something about the content and the odd placement of it in the library, and Elias wondered out loud only vaguely concerned to sound genuine.

—I hope it wasn't too much trouble.

—Huh? N-no, no, not at all! —And there it was again, his nervous yet sweet smile as if he hadn't spent hours trying to find it alone, not bothering his teammates in fear that it had been easy if he had known anything about the job in question. Elias smiled, then, at him, as he took the book on his hands. If he brushed his finger with Martin's it might have been a coincidence. That was what his own eyes said when Martin looked at him with those big lamb eyes.

—Thank you, Martin.

Flashes of his more innocent fantasies played in front of his eyes, and he could see when Martin, sweet, full cheeked and angelic Martin saw himself dragging his tongue and teeth over the lip of the man in front of him. He could see the break on his smile, the nervous edge on his eyebrow, the confused two seconds where he opened and closed his mouth, not sure where that thought came from. Elias then deliberately took his hand on his.

—I don't know what I'll do without you, honestly.

Flashes of touch, calculative fingers against hot skin following the pattern of his past thoughts, digging hungry on the soft surface of his flesh as a tongue tasted his neck. Teeth biting down as if it were fruit, and the real Martin gasped just a bit, cheeks coloring a lovely shade of red as he swallowed.

—It's really not a problem, sir. It's, it's my pleasure, really. I, uh...—There was a slight tremor as he said that, and Elias tried not to smile at his eyes fled from his, conveniently falling on their joined hands. He didn't even had to do anything there, for the man's own imagination betrayed him flashing quick and different sensory images that Elias wasn't fast enough to catch. A high, nervous laugh rolled from Martin's lips as he gripped harder his hand, before letting it go as if the contact burned. Eyes shining with secrets, and oh how Elias wanted to see every single one of the things he was trying to hide.

—Thank you nonetheless. —He smiled one last time before turning around, feeling his eyes on him.

His step was slow towards his office, and it was only when he reached his sanctuary that he felt it, the sweet smell of a shameful secret. As he sat on his desk he tuned in his newly favorite radio show, feeling waves of shame and pleasure as Martin touched himself, picturing pretty pictures to add to his collection.

Martin was a fun game, but nothing more than that, the man being even less than the original Elias Bouchard had been when he was alive.

After he moved him to the Archives that changed of course, his infatuation taking another course and Elias couldn't quite say he missed it, his newfound crush on yet another person who seemingly despised him almost as entertaining as his previous hobby. Elias himself moved on to a more interesting channel, and with the Archivist under his nose, Martin became less than a footnote on a page.

* * *

It was...

No.

It wasn't Funny, exactly, when Martin of all people got rid of him physically and put him on jail.

It was Interesting.

To see the tears of rage, tears of grief, willingly shed as Elias himself walked on a fiery hot and sweet scented trap like a-

Well, not a Web, exactly. But wouldn't that be ironic? Troublesome perhaps, but oh so very ironic, and interesting.

Elias sat, then, on his jail as he kept an eye on his very own Institute, on his very own Archivist that kept getting touched by the different entities as his plan entailed all along, on his very own... Martin. But he wasn't his anymore, wasn't he? He couldn't even watch him as he wanted. With Peter's isolation interfering and Martin not being that bright neon sign of a man that once was his figure was as misty as everything in the Lonely, so he was limited to try and listen through the tapes, and to his own imagination.

And maybe, just maybe, his imagination got the best of him sometimes, when the cold waiting became too dull and his mind wondered off, recalling the musky scent of naïvety and trembling fear clashing hard with the way he talked to Peter -to Simon, even- with an authority a past Martin couldn't dream to possess. Peter was foolish, he thought he knew the younger man only because he felt Lonely, but he didn't Know him like he did, he hasn't Seen him like he did. Whenever Elias heard Peter sounding indulging on tape he couldn't do more than smile, for he knew that one way or another he was going to win their bet, and Martin was stronger than he looked like at first glance.

It caught him off guard the realization that, even without the ultimate confidence on his very own judgment (which was enough) he _trusted_ Martin to trick Peter. Not everyday he managed to get surprised, Impressed, even, and after the initial sour aftertaste he actually relished the sound of him fooling everyone. It became a scarce pleasure too whenever he came to visit. To finally _see_ the influence that his lonely acquaintance forced on him without any sort of interference, the bittersweet tinge in the air hiding the resolution inside himself, the tension on his shape not of nerves and discomfort but with building irritation, the anger on his lovely eyes.

Asking so many questions, hungry for answers... He was a thing to behold...

—What now? —Martin asked then, short and pointedly long after their last conversation died down, and Elias realized he had been staring. Fitting.

—Nothing. Just thinking. —He gestured with his hands, hearing the metallic noise of the handcuffs and picking with interest at the way Martin looked at them before focusing back on him—. I'm afraid there's not a lot else I can do from here.

—Oh, sure. Thinking about what? —Elias smiled, wondering what would happen if he told him point blank that he was thinking about _him_ , one of the very few people that did, and the things he was thinking. (The things he'd love to _see_. Because, _oh, the things_ he'd _love to see_ )

—I honestly don't think you'd like it.

Silence, then, as Martin tried fruitlessly to see through him despite not being quite good in that regard. Eyes unwavering, hands in fists clenching on the metal table that scarcely separated them, the beginning of a snarl on his pretty lips, Elias quite wondered if he realized how much he changed in the past four years. The difference between the young man whose heart beat faster when he went to see him and the man who almost wished to strangle him on the spot.

Almost, almost. Why was he always an almost? Elias wanted to **see.**

"I know I won't like it. Tell me anyway" Martin might have thought then, louder, or maybe it was Elias' own wistful thinking, but either way he rested his chin on his joined hands looking up at the man in front of him, succession of images flashing from his mind to his thick and slow like honey. Until his eyes widened with recognition. Recognition of the feeling, recognition of the scene.

Elias, then, felt his anger and his old shame burning hot like paper on a small dusty room.

— _Stop that._

—You asked. —He replied, transfixed with the microexpressions of his face; The tension on his lip, the way he closed his eyes as to blink away the images piling on his mind, the hitch on his breath, small enough to be near invisible to anyone without a trained eye. ~~The faint color on his cheek the way he swallowed the sharp intake of breath before talking, he made the mistake of not pay attention to him before, he wasn't going to make that mistake again.~~

—You... You... —Choking on his words he got up, probably with the intention to bluff to leave, when Elias saw something change on his expression before he had the intention to tell him to stay. A frown, not with anger but with confusion—. That's not mine.

—...What?

Martin squinted at him, anger still present but now mostly at the back of his mind as he tried to focus on a thought specifically. Elias couldn't quite recall which exactly made him stop and look at him with such... intense curiosity (and oh, he wore curiosity so nicely). He felt his neck crane upwards as Martin stood besides him, his futile intention to leave interrupted by his own... what was it? Elias tried to pry his feelings, feeling the understandable indignation but also...

— _I_ never _thought **that**_. —He spoke, slowly, and it wasn't hard to understand the implication of his words. Elias took a breath as the images ceased their transfer, feeling not a small amount of satisfaction at the observation.

—Haven't you? If I recall, you did thought a _great deal of things_ about u-

—No, —Martin repeated—, no, I didn't thought that. Ever.

The clock ticked in silence as Elias was much more interested in looking back at the image that still stood strong in Martin's mind as if burned with fire than answering, until Martin took a step, standing right besides him in the little room.

—Well? Aren't you gonna say something?

—I think we both know the answer, and we both know you won't like it. —He groaned, pressing his hand to his eyes for a second.

—Just tell me already, did _you_ thought all that?

—Yes.

—Christ. Why? —At that, Elias laughed. Just a bit.

—Why would a man think about another buried deep inside himself? Martin, don't ask useless questions.

Another flare of anger and indignation crossed his mind, but Elias was focusing on the small empty space among those emotions that he couldn't quite place. What was Martin holding from him? What was Martin unaware of, for him not being able to see?

—You... —His voice brought him back to the scene in question, Martin stuck in front of him as he raised his hand, closing and opening it in frustration without being able to get out the words and with his cheeks flaring red— you- you're a disgusting little man, you know that?

—So I've been told.

—I hate you.

—I think we covered that already.

Opening and closing his mouth a couple of times Martin stood in front of him with the fantasy at the edges of his mind strong enough that Elias could easily visualize it as the first time he ever thought about it, with the now added pressure of Martin's mind's eye stopping at different points of the image like a painting on a museum. Elias himself could almost feel the phantom touch on his naked skin, on his naked neck when something in the man's demeanor changed.

There was a tension on Martin's face of a man who was trying to keep his emotions inside himself, but Elias could feel a weird swirl as he very tentatively reached his hand towards him mirroring the fantasy in visuals only. The anger was present underneath it all as a thin layer of curiosity brimmed from it, hints of guilt sparkling like embers of a fire and... the vague feeling of thrill and dread of doing something illicit. His fingers were colder than he imagined them to be, but even with the initial caution the pressure felt firm around his neck.

They stared at each other in silence for a long long beat as Martin's hand wrapped almost delicately around his throat, and even then Elias delighted himself with his deer caught in the highlights look as he leaned ever so sightly. The vague reminder of how long it has been since Martin touched another person didn't go unnoticed.

—You're enjoying this, aren't you? —Even like this, even as he choked him so very lightly, even with venom of his voice, even then he spoke softly. Elias smiled.

—Very much so. —Feeling his own adam's apple scrape against the skin as he talked and the way Martin swallowed at the sight made him hum—. And so do you, Martin.

—I, I don't.

—Yes you do. —He rattled the handcuffs tied on the table, laughing lightly—. You love the thought of hurting me.

Martin scoffed, astonished and offended as his fluttering eyes fled his, but his hand never subdued. He wished for a second he could touch him, bring him down to his level as his neck started to hurt as he looked up at him, yet when something on his eyes changed he couldn't, didn't want to, do anything else more than to see the change happening in real time.

—...Maybe I do. —Victory tasted sweet, to be right. The feeling of his hand getting tighter against his blood stream and maybe, maybe against his windpipe felt dizzying. Elias gasped, small shiver running down his spine as Martin got closer to his face—. You know? Maybe I do like that thought.

He felt his breath get quicker and the still a bit warm surface of his face close to his.

—Martin... —He could almost nudge his nose with his, feel the fluttering of his eyelashes on his forehead, and feel his hot breath mix with his own despite his mouth being yet still so far.

—Maybe I _do_ want to hurt you.

_Close your eyes_

Once Elias memorized every labored breath, every hot look, every feeling, every digit digging on his skin, only then his eyes fluttered close. Small mercies, small price to give to finally get what he wanted. For Martin to be rightfully his... But despite one last dizzying squeeze the warmth on his face and the pressure on his neck quickly shined for its absence, as he distantly heard steps on the ground.

Ah.

What.

When he opened his eyes there he was, standing in the threshold of the room wearing a strange expression, and not even the mirth of his reddened cheeks and wet lips masked for his own frustrated wanting.

—I think I have everything I came looking for, though. Which, to be fair isn't really a lot coming from you. —And then he smiled, sweetly—. But thank you nonetheless.

The lonely's mist waiting behind the door made it impossible to look at him then, but if Elias were to pry his feelings he'd feel waves of embarrassment, flickers of anger and frustration, and yet behind it all a deep, deep satisfaction. To bathe in such would leave him feeling hotter than he felt in that moment, but when Elias finally reacted Martin was far out of his reach.

Huh.

Now, alone, when he swallowed he felt his throat constrict for a bit and he couldn't help but think how a more willing man, a weaker man, would hurt him right there. The police wouldn't do anything right away and Elias doubted they'd do anything afterwards regarding him. He wondered if Martin knew it as well. If he felt the Eye of the camera and his -Their- God looking down at them expectant of whatever action he decided to take. 

When he felt his still warmly and aroused skin as he massaged his neck and the men in uniform came looking for him with a bad concealed smile the irony of the situation wasn't lost to him, of course. The smile that eventually ghosted his lips wasn't without irritation, but then again, lately the most interesting surprises left that bittersweet taste on his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so confession: I dont actually like elias, like, at all? so writing this was kinda hard, but i Do love the concept of martinelias, mostly when martin has the upper hand on him u_u which is why my martinelias fics are all like This lmao
> 
> Hope you liked it!! Consider leaving a comment :')


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